Wrong Way Go Back Pure Slush Vol. 19
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Wrong Way Go Back Pure Slush Vol. 19 - Pure Slush
Wrong Way Go Back
Pure Slush Vol. 19
A Pure Slush E-book
new PS logo vertical smallCopyright
*
First published as an eBook and in paperback October 2020
BP#00097
Content copyright © Pure Slush Books and individual authors
All rights reserved by the author and publisher. Except for brief excerpts used for review or scholarly purposes, no part of this book may be reproduced in any manner whatsoever without express written consent of the publisher or the author/s.
Pure Slush Books
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Australia
Email: edpureslush@live.com.au
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Cover design copyright © Matt Potter
ISBN: 978-1-922427-07-6
Also available in paperback / ISBN: 978-1-922427-06-9
A note on differences in punctuation and spelling
Pure Slush Books proudly features writers from all over the English-speaking world. Some speak and write English as their first language, while for others, it’s their second or third or even fourth language. Naturally, across all versions of English, there are differences in punctuation and spelling, and even in meaning. These differences are reflected in the work Pure Slush Books publishes, and they account for any differences in punctuation, spelling and meaning found within these pages.
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Stories, Poems And Essays By
• Alex Reece ABBOTT • Ahmed M. AL-ASA’ADI • Tobi ALFIER • Gemma AL-KHAYAT • Diana ALLGAIR • Sandra ARNOLD • Angelo AUCIELLO • Cathie AYLMER • Jacqueline BARTLE • James BELL • Dev BERGER • John BOST • Howard BROWN • Anika CARPENTER • Steve CARR • Anne CASEY • Chuka Susan CHESNEY • Kersten CHRISTIANSON • Jan CHRONISTER • Dave CLARK • Bethany CODY • Peter COLLINS • Lisa COLLYER • David COOK • Georgia COOK • Tony DALY • Charles N. deGRAVELLES • Roy DUFFIELD • James FITZGIBBON • Michael GIGANDET • J.J. GONZÁLEZ • Jodi Pilcher GORDON • Ken GOSSE • Anne HOWKINS • Mark HUDSON • Barbara Schilling HURWITZ • Nneoma IKE-NJOKU • Doug JACQUIER • Paul JAUREGUI • Pam KNAPP • Eddy KNIGHT • Martha LANDMAN • Tréa LAVERY • Christine LAW • Erica Plouffe LAZURE • Catherine LEE • Joan LEOTTA • Cynthia LESLIE-BOLE • Louella LESTER • Valentina LINARDI • Kirsten LUCKINS • Maduabuchi MacDONALD • Clare MARSH • Jenean McBREARTY • Jan McCARTHY • Rachael MEAD • Barbara A. MEIER • Deborah MELTVEDT • Corey MILLER • Remngton MURPHY • Zach MURPHY • Carl ‘Papa’ PALMER • Gary PERCESEPE • Christopher PHAM • Sandy PHILLIPS • Melisa QUIGLEY • Emma ROBERTSON • Anna ROSS • Ed RUZICKA • Mir-Yashar SEYEDBAGHERI • Martin SHAW • Jonathan SLUSHER • Robert STEWARD • Crystal STEWART • Andrea TATE • Isabel THOMPSON • Jennifer THRALL • Lucy TYRRELL • Judy UPTON • Lois Perch VILLEMAIRE • Lauren Bronwyn WAGNER • Robert WALTON • Sarah WILLIAMS • Melissa WONG • Larry WRIGHT • Mantz YORKE •
POETRY
Poetry – Table Of Contents
*
Lost on the Coast Road Rachael Mead
Marriage Gary Percesepe
Driving Around Remngton Murphy
Spout about the Roundabouts Carl ‘Papa’ Palmer
Follow Your Dave Clark
The color of glass John Bost
Regrets Jan Chronister
New shoes Cathie Aylmer
All Sorrow’s a Country-Western Song Tobie Alfier
Interstate 70 Barbara A. Meier
Broken Washer Chuka Susan Chesney
Love off course Melissa Wong
Speed of Light Sarah Williams
Endings Angelo Auciello
Clan House Larry Wright
My biggest regrets from my Wisconsin vacation Mark Hudson
Sunday, 10 Degrees Fahrenheit Kersten Christianson
That Flicker of Perfection Dev Berger
Heavy Load Kirsten Luckins
Brittle Lisa Collyer
Ifs Maduabuchi MacDonald
The Devil Takes The Could-a-beens Doug Jacquier
Yellow Bus Lucy Tyrrell
Over a Lifetime Sandy Phillips
My Past Valentina Linardi
Chu Chi Tunnels Melisa Quigley
She Follows Her Heart Catherine Lee
Mrs M. Tony Daly
At the Spanish Steps in the Softness of May Martha Landman
Leaving the Solomons Deborah Meltvedt
In the public interest Anne Casey
Passion Plays James Bell
Regrets from Above Lauren Bronwyn Wagner
Global Warming, You Bet Ya! Ed Ruzicka
One Step Beyond the Final Frontier Ken Gosse
Evergreen Crystal Stewart
Turn and Return Charles N. deGravelles
A delay on the line Roy Duffield
Last Summer Tréa Lavery
Pool Decked Robert Walton
Lost On The Coast Road
by Rachael Mead
*
I’m about to get this all wrong. This place,
so stacked with shacks and gin palaces
that I keep getting Middleton and Marion Bay
stuck together in my head, both flecked
and slapped with the Southern Ocean and its winds.
The windows are down and we let
the air overtake as Alistair’s car carries us
like a metaphor that doesn’t quite work.
The moon is fat with light
and floating in a sneeze of stars
so we crank back the seats and let
the screams of gulls replace conversation.
We’ve rambled ourselves to a standstill
and Bulkey wants food so we turn east
without a map, as though some Orient exists,
searching for something intangible yet substantial,
spiced with fiery accusations of its own.
I don’t venture an opinion but should know better.
We’re all equally confident in being lost
and sometimes getting it wrong on a coast road,
the breezy tangle of stars and street lights finding us
then letting us go, is actually getting it right.
Marriage
by Gary Percesepe
*
I
As a wound gives off its own light
I forgive you.
All the lamps of the house are trimmed
against this virus
though it may merely be delayed.
I married again
(you knew that).
But did you know that
she took all my notebooks?
II
It’s OK. I don’t miss them
or even need them.
You’ve cut through me
deeper than any stylus.
Besides, it’s the same
story over and over
what’s broke wasn’t glass
what remains can’t be hid.
Still, she burned your clothes
on the wide lawn yesterday
the skirt you’d left
the red bra hanging
from the wet curtain.
I make her crazy the
way you made me cry.
III
We’re an integrated circuit
a washing machine with
agitator pounding us clean.
I still love you
You make me cry
Two things you’ll
never hear again from me.
I’d kill you, she says
But I’d need to make another
just like you. Pain rests,
beauty never. My life
turned and ran down the stairs.
IV
Who is she?
I stammered. Names,
I want names.
There is something so pure
she said, in the first
infidelity of the marriage.
Yes, I said.
Her name? she insisted.
Her, I said.
Isn’t that enough?
What would you say
if I knew you’d be lying?
V
When neither are married
it’s like the story a
novelist tells
the day Hirohito went on air
and spoke as a mortal man
the adults sat around the radio and cried.
Driving Around
by Remngton Murphy
*
There was always a problem
With Blue Diamond Highway,
Lake Meade Boulevard
And Interstate 15.
They always took him
Where he didn’t want to go.
He’d wind up in the desert
Looking at the new developments,
Nice little townhouses
Going for eighty, maybe a hundred thousand,
The kind that were foreclosed
During the subprime mortgage crunch.
Or he’d wind up in the desert,
Swatting the sand flies
Getting in his face,
Counting the ground squirrels
And swatting more sand flies.
Either way he was lost.
Spout About The Roundabouts
by Carl ‘Papa’ Palmer
*
I found myself astound about,
confound about, profound about
these traffic circle roundabouts.
Without a doubt, shouting out
about our renowned roundabouts.
I found myself astound about,
day in day out, frowned about,
bound to pout, wound about
these traffic circle roundabouts.
Bouts of gout have sprouted out
brought about by roundabouts.
I found myself astound about,
spellbound about, touted out,
expounded out, devout about
these traffic circle roundabouts.
As I scouted out my rounded route,
horns sounded out, resounded out.
I found myself astound about
these traffic circle roundabouts.
Follow Your
by Dave Clark
*
Follow your head.
Rational.
Follow your heart.
Emotional.
Follow your gut.
Instinctual.
Follow your values.
Spiritual.
Follow your dreams.
Hopeful.
Decisions made
And justified
And questioned
And regretted
By what we followed.
At times I give
One approach more weight,
Though I ponder whether it's better
To follow one
Or a mix of all
And what are the right amounts of each.
Internal opinions
Pulling me in varied directions.
I stretch like spandex,
And when snapped back,
I am shaped differently.
The Color Of Glass
by John Bost
*
The color of glass when it breaks
Is shattered, splintered, and scattered
Where no one wants to step
Where no one wants to be
They back away or walk around
Avoiding the many broken pieces
shattered, splintered, and scattered
can be difficult to do
can be difficult to see
when so many avert their eyes
they just may not realize
They back away or walk around
Avoiding the many broken pieces
they can fail to see
The color of glass when it breaks
Regrets
by Jan Chronister
*
When I taught on the reservation
students spilled news every week—
parents, aunties, uncles, cousins,
suicide, overdose, diabetes, heart attack.
Mothers and fathers younger than I was
but most likely wiser, death
an accepted fact of life.
It’s been a month since
someone I know died,
mother-in-law buried
six months shy of turning 100.
We left in haste before the casket
was lowered, didn’t wait around
to watch her body descend into
Florida’s sandy ground,
dirt filled back in. Our minds
were on the trip back home,
beating the snow to Wisconsin.
Next year we will visit her grave,
make amends for our slight.
New Shoes
by Cathie Aylmer
*
Old slippers are comfy, cosy, safe;
Memories of childhood Christmases
and watching TV before bedtime.
No risk of trips or twisted ankles,
No chance of blisters or blood,
No broken straps or broken heels.
No concerns about a fashion faux pas,
or where to wear them and try them out:
They fit and are comfy and cosy and safe.
But slippers don’t have that thrill,
That first glimpse passing by the shoe store window;
Stopping, stepping forward to get a better look;
transfixed.
So beautiful you can’t help yourself,
Giving in to the urge,
A splurge!
A dazzling impulse buy…
Which doesn’t really pay off.
Looking longingly through the glass at a pair for weeks,
Detouring to take another peek
At the dark, sensual leather
and the sleek lines
of the spiked heels
that are calling your name.
Picturing elongated legs sashaying by
as every step is envied… then complimented.
A payday purchase that is